What Lovers Do(63)

“I know,” Howie says just above a whisper. “Caroline says it’s sometimes hard to know what you want until you just … have it. The best things in life come without warning. But I’m not sure that’s true. I think her saying that to me, under the illusion that she’s explaining Millie’s behavior, is actually a warning to me.”

I lift my gaze to his.

Howie tries to smile, but it’s not working. I see his pain. Hell, I feel it. “And I don’t think what’s coming my way is good.”

“Howie …”

He shakes his head. “She works late. We don’t have sex. When I touch her, she pulls away and blows it off like I’m being obnoxious or something. And sometimes I can be, but lately, I’ve just wanted to touch my wife. You know?”

“Yeah … I know all too well.”

After one beer, I head home, calling Sophie on the way. It’s been several days since we’ve talked. I just need her voice. That’s all.

Her phone goes straight to voicemail. “You’ve reached Dr. Sophie Ryan, please leave a detailed message.” It’s not her, but it’s her voice … and for now, that’s enough.





CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE





SOPHIE





We do it.

We manage to digress back into the friendship category—conversing on the phone several times a week about work, current events, and our dogs.

We take the dogs to the park. Shep shows me his brewing setup in his garage. And we golf twice before our trip to Santa Monica.

However, Shep’s been a little different, a little less than his usual jovial self. It’s subtle, but noticeable. As much as I want to ask him about it, I don’t know if I want the answer. Avoiding personal details, reality, is what makes this friendship work.

Jimmy? Oh, he died. That’s what I tell myself. In actuality, he’s been residing in his room when I’m home. He doesn’t leave the house for work. He has groceries delivered. And he’s stopped walking Cersei while I’m at work. I’m certain he’s scared of me, yet vengeful. He’s not a telemarketer; he’s a full-time asshole living only to ruin my life. And he knows … he knows I will change the locks on the house if he leaves for so much as a trip to the end of the driveway.

I’m biding my time. Waiting for the justice system to do its job.

Since we’re taking my car to Santa Monica, I pick Shep up, which means I don’t have to make up some excuse for him to pick me up at work instead of home.

“Where’s Cersei?” Shep asks as he tosses his bag in the back of my car.

After he gets into the passenger’s seat, I smile. “She’s with my sister and her husband.”

I can’t give Jimmy any more ammunition. He’s already declared himself the primary caregiver for my dog.

“Is Millie keeping Julia and George?”

“Yes. I’ll have them next week and the following week while she’s in Florida for more training. There’s a new product line they’re launching next month, and she wants me to mention it to you in case you’re interested. So there, I told you. You’re not interested. And I think you look nice today.”

I giggle. “Thanks. You look nice today too.”

He glances down at his basic white tee and gray shorts. “Ya think?”

“I do.”

After two hours, we swap and Shep drives the rest of the way to Santa Monica. He seems content listening to music while I crochet and try not to think of all the things Jimmy might do to my house while I’m out of town. What other things will he “update” to use as evidence that he deserves to stay indefinitely?

“Soph!” Dad pulls me into his arms as soon as he opens the door.

“Hey, Dad. Good to see you.”

He holds me at arm’s length. “You look different.”

I stiffen. There’s no way he notices I’m pregnant. My stomach is still flat.

“Uh …” I return a nervous laugh.

“You’re glowing, baby. Life must be treating you well.” He releases me.

I nod several times. “Something like that. This is my friend, Shep. Shep, this is my dad, Dalton.”

“Nice to meet you.” Dad shakes Shep’s hand.

“The pleasure’s all mine. Sophie’s told me all about you.”

“All lies, I’m sure.” He winks at me and steps aside to let us inside his single-story, three-bedroom, mid-century style home. It’s filled with solid wood floors and contemporary furnishings, stained glass windows, and French doors leading to a nice sized lot enclosed with greenery in every direction. It’s not the family home I grew up in, but I’ve always felt welcomed and at home here.

“So what do you do, Shep?” My dad dives right into the important questions as he leads us toward the bedrooms.

“I work at a pet store in Scottsdale,” Shep answers without any sort of hesitation.

“So …” Dad turns. “I’m not as old fashioned as my daughter has probably led you to believe. Just be straight with me. Are you friends who sleep in the same bedroom or separate bedrooms? I’m fine with whatever.”

“Separate,” I blurt out so quickly it elicits raised brows from both men. Clearing my throat, I offer a sheepish grin. “Just friends, Dad. Nothing more.”